


NEED YOU MORE THAN OXYGEN

by lipstickboys



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band), Lady Gaga (Musician), Panic! at the Disco, The Neighbourhood (Band), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Bulimia, Childhood Trauma, Cocaine, Consensual Underage Sex, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, F/M, Heroin, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rehabilitation, Rough Sex, Self-Harm, Sex Addiction, Sexual Abuse, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27148774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipstickboys/pseuds/lipstickboys
Summary: The therapist acts as I’ve never done this before but I know for a fact this isn’t my first round. Brendon would be here if it were still my first round. There’s a different distraction now. Not an ex-boyfriend. No. Instead, a very much alive, beautiful, sparkling man who keeps staring at me. That’s the distraction. The new distraction.A healthy distraction.
Relationships: Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes, Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross/Stefani Germanotta, Ryan "Van" McCann/Ryan Ross, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes, Ryan Ross/Dallon Weekes, Ryan Ross/Jesse Rutherford, Ryan Ross/Jesse Rutherford/Stefani Germanotta, Ryan Ross/Stefani Germanotta
Kudos: 5





	NEED YOU MORE THAN OXYGEN

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bowie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowie/gifts).



> PLEASE BE SAFE READING! This could be very very triggering so please take breaks or just dont read at all. Take care of yourself.

I've discovered that this was a poor idea on my own part. My mom is talking with the woman at the front desk. I keep pinching myself, hoping that maybe they won't accept me in. It seems pointless really. I don’t really think I need help. I think I’d be fine without this. What exactly do I respond to when I get asked why I’m there?

Well, I think I’m fine. Just fine. 

My mom turns to face me, pulling me over to meet the woman at the desk. She introduces herself and tells me to fill out a packet with several questions about my drug problem. Which I wouldn't even categorize as a drug problem. I sit down with it, staring at the first few questions and answering easily.

10 questions in and I start getting asked about suicidal thoughts and other mental disorders. I answer dishonestly. Maybe they'll see it and realize I’m okay. Right? I finish the packet and hand it back to her. Mom hugs me, telling me that everything will be perfectly fine and Bella will call me soon. She hands me my suitcase and says her goodbyes. I've already forgotten the woman's name but she seems friendly enough. 

She points to a set of stairs, “Are you ready?” I shrug, following her. My head hurts already. We get upstairs and I see at least four boys on a couch together. One of them looks like he should move to a different couch, his legs too long. He's handsome. The one next to him has multiple tattoos on his arms, smiling at me. The boy next to him has light brown hair, drawing in a notebook, not looking up. The fourth has black hair with piercings. I see a few adults and a few other boys. 

The tall one speaks first, but more in a whisper to the guy next to him. I feel awkward. The tattoo guy shrugs. The woman starts to talk but I ignore her, keeping eye contact with the tattooed guy. “Let's get you to your room.” She starts to walk out of the room. I follow quickly, not wanting to get in trouble.

We got into a large room, one half of the room had pictures on the wall and some notebooks on the desk. The other side was visibly lonely. She takes my suitcase from me, tossing it on what I assume is my bed. “Your roommate is downstairs in a session right now. His name is Andy.” She opens up my suitcase.

“What are you doing? That's my shit. Get out of it.” I walk over pulling the suitcase out of her space. 

“We have to go through all of your stuff before you get any of it. We just have to check to see if you have any contraband. It's just protocol.” I hesitate before giving it back. “Notebooks will need to be checked and so will pictures and books. We can't have any inappropriate and or triggering items in your possession. Do you have any sharps or drugs?”

“I have cigarettes. I thought maybe you guys wouldn't go through my shit.” Why was I not informed?

“Because you're in a mostly underage facility, you don't have much privacy. Cigarettes are a huge no-no.” I huff. “You boys have lunch soon so you’ll be able to get to know them. You and Brendon will probably be friends. He listens to a lot of these bands.” She's going through my t-shirts.

“I bet.” This was a dumb fucking idea. “So, is privacy a privilege?” She nods.

“Basically. You’ll be pulled a lot throughout the next day or two to meet with therapists. The boys will talk to you about rules later on. We’re pretty strict on new kids just to make sure that we don't have any accidents.” I blink. Accidents?

“Accidents?” She doesn't seem alarmed about having to use that word.

“AWOL, sexual relationships, drug usage, suicide attempts, etc.” Oh. Huh.

“How much trouble can you get into for that stuff?” 

“Loss of privileges.” 

“Do we get phone calls often?” 

“Also a privilege. Do you have any girlfriend or boyfriend?” I nod. “The likely-hood of you being able to call them is very low. Even for someone who has been here for 90 days, gets maybe one phone call a week with a friend or significant other.”

“Once a week? What if she doesn't answer when I call?”

“Then you wait until next week. What's her name?” I try not to get too upset. 

“Stefani. I have a picture of her in there.” I nod, watching her carefully.

“We’ll have to get that approved. She could be a distraction for your own recovery.” I scoff. Distraction? She cant be fucking serious. She's the only reason I’m alive. But, I stay quiet.

She finishes going through my shit a few minutes later. My eyes are on the two pictures I have of Stefani in her hand. Give them back, whore. I have done nothing so far and they have already taken my shit. “Can I just have one of those?” She shakes her head. I groan. “This is a fucking joke!”

“Language, Ryan. C’mon, let's go out into the living room. You can meet the boys.” I put my hands into my pockets, I could fucking leave any time I want.

“This is dumb.” I mutter, staring at the floor. Now there happens to be only three of them on the couch. 

“I'm Brendon. That's Dallon. Thats Tyler.” I nod, not responding. I want to leave.

“Ryan? Can you introduce yourself?” I glare at her, sitting down on a chair across the room and pulling my knees to my chest.

“Give me my cigarettes and pictures. Then I will.” I hear the Brendon kid laugh.

“Is he serious? Dude, this is rehab. We all have drug issues. Don't be fucking ignorant.” Didn’t take long for him to fall from his nice guy act. 

“I’m not being ignorant. I just find it silly that everyone in this building is fucking stupid and wont give me a picture of my fucking girlfriend of four years! You want me to keep being fucking depressed!? That's not helpful!”

“Oh, Dallon, you hear that? He's straight. Makes sense.” Dallon laughs. Oh. They're all faggots.

“Shut up, faggot.” Brendon stands up, then angry. Two staff get up to step between us.

“Ryan. Language like that is not acceptable in this household.” I shrug, picking at my nails. Brendon sits back down slowly.

  
“Watch your goddamn mouth, kid.” Dallon presses. Tyler stays quiet throughout this argument.

Soon, we get called for lunch. I feel guilty by then for calling Brendon a fag. Not that I’m entirely straight either so how is that fair to him? Apologizing would be in my best interest. I tap Brendon on the shoulder, not looking him in the eye.

“I’m sorry for calling you that name. I-- I’m just angry. I took it out on you.” He grits his teeth, taking a breath.

“It's alright. I was an asshole when I got here. Just, don't do it again. Or I will knock your fucking teeth out of your skull. How old are you?” We start walking to the dining room.

“16. Almost 17. What about you?” I’m surprised he doesn't stay angry at me.

“17. Dallons 18. He's in a pissy mood now. So watch what you say. You can sit with us.”

I sit down across from Brendon, watching Dallon stare at me, confused as to why I thought I had a right to sit there. “The fuck is he doing?” Brendon sighs.

“He apologized. Don't be a baby. Sit down.” Dallon dramatically sits down, rolling his eyes.

“So, what’re you here for?” I hesitate.

“Drugs, an eating disorder. What about you?” Then a plate of rice, a hamburger, and fruit is put in front of me. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I lean back, not looking at it.

“Drugs, suicide attempt, bulimia, PTSD, more shit.” He shrugs, beginning to eat, I watch him. He's really beautiful.  
  
“Same for me.” Dallon continues. “You should eat. You’ll get in trouble.” I don't really care enough to worry about that.

The conversation is over when Brendon starts talking to Dallon. I notice that they flirt with each other often. Brendon's smile is wide when they talk, using his hands a lot when describing something he's passionate about. 

I observe Brendon all of lunch, fascinated with all of his interests. Dallon is obviously one of those interests. Dallon definitely feels the same for Brendon. I don’t eat. I feel eyes on me the entire time. The staff doesn't leave me alone when I get up. 

Dallon gets pulled right before the first group, so Brendon decides to ask me about Stefani. “How old is she? You said you two have been dating for a while.” 

“She's 17. She's turning 18 in a month. She's really gorgeous.” He elbows me, a grin on his face.  
  
“Are you in love with her?” I roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I think I am at least.” He's charming. Really fucking charming.

“Where are you from?” I’m almost embarrassed. Brendons probably from some cool place.

“Nebraska. Chadron. Small town. I've lived there my entire life.” He nods.

“I’m from Ohio. Not cool or anything. Weather sucks. People suck.” Ohio sounds cooler than Nebraska. 

“I think that's cool.” He smiles, patting me on the back.

“Group time. This should be lovely.” He walks me into a room where there's an older man with a notebook. “Joel!” Brendon smiles, “You're back from your break! How was Chicago?” Brendons obviously close with Joel.

“It was lovely, Brendon. How have you been? I heard that you’ve made a lot of progress in the past week.” He nods, proud of himself. 

“I have! I told my mom about Nate.” Whoever Nate is, he's probably not good.

“I'm so proud of you, Bren! Who's this?” 

“I’m Ryan. I got here an hour ago.” He smiles.

“Very nice to meet you, Ryan. I’m one of the group therapists. I do DBT.” I furrow my eyebrows. “DBT is emotional tolerance and behavioral skills. We’re going to be working on anger thermometers today. You guys have Sarah after for the process group, right?” Brendon nods. How long has he been here?

I sit down next to Brendon, who's still making conversation with Joel. None of the staff were in the room now. The next few minutes, more of the guys come in. 6 in total, including me. Tyler and Dallon are sitting together. I feel Dallons eyes on me once and a while.

“Alright, is everyone ready to start check-ins?” Brendon starts.

“Im Brendon, I’m feeling happy and content.” Then everyone looks at me. “Just say your name and how you're feeling.” 

“Uh, I’m Ryan. I’m feeling anxious and sad.” Brendon taps me on the shoulder, nodding.

“Im Tyler. I'm feeling stressed and angry.” Tyler looks about ready to punch someone's face in.

“Dallon. Feeling shitty and I have a headache.” 

“Im Pete. Im feeling happy and excited.”

“I'm Gabe. Im feeling relaxed, considering I just took a nap.” Joel nods, looking around and writing something down.

“Alright, today we’re going to be doing anger thermometers. Does anyone know what that is?” Brendon raises his hand.

“An anger thermometer is something you can use to understand what triggers you to become more and more angry. It's pretty simple.” This feels childish. Joel nods, passing out a sheet of paper to everyone. It's a large picture of a thermometer with numbers on the side.

“What you're going to do is write things that will cause more and more anger next to the numbers. One is least angry and ten is most angry. Once you're done with the paper, let me know and we can go around and share. Brendon can you help Ryan?” He nods, turning to face a desk.

“I'm only gonna help a little. So, pay attention.” I stay quiet, trying my best to pay attention. But all I can pay attention to is how badly I want a cigarette. My mouth feels dry and my head hurts. Just one. He starts to explain what to do, giving me examples but I don't really understand anything he's saying. I feel hot. “You alright?” I rub my face.

“I just feel dizzy. I guess.” He sighs.

“You're pale. Let's go outside.” He stands up, lightly taking my hand and tugging me. “Joel, Ryan needs air. We’ll be right back.” He grabs a bottle of water on our way out. The staff don't really pay attention considering they see me with Brendon. We sit out of sight of everyone.

“Sorry.” He shrugs, pulling two cigarettes out of his pocket under his hoodie along with a lighter. My eyes widen.

“Don't tell anyone. I’m being nice.” I take it greedily, putting it in my mouth and letting him light it for me.

“Thank you so much, so so much.” I take a deep drag, feeling better.

“You're not having a great day, are you?” I shake my head. He starts smoking slowly.

“I just didn't know I probably wouldn't be able to call Stef or my sister.”

“I know how to get around shit like that. When they ask what your mom's number is, give them Stefani’s number. I get cigarettes from Gabby. She comes every friday. I’ll take care of you. Try not to be dick, though.” He smiles. He feels comfortable to be around.

“Thank you, Brendon. I really do appreciate it.” He nods, patting my knee. “How long have you been here?” 

“Almost ninety days.” I finish my cigarette quickly in which he hands me his.

“Shit, that sucks. I’m sorry.” 

“I know I’m clean from the harder drugs but, I don't know. I don't think shit will be this good when I get out. I still have so much recovery to go over in therapy. We havent even gone over the sex addiction. Barely any of the trauma. My parents are paying out of pocket.” 

“Do you think you'll stay away from the hard drugs when you leave?” He shrugs.

“Probably. What about you?” I rub my wrist.

“I don't want to get clean.” He sighs.

“I said the same shit when I got here. Dude, you're not happy. Fucking stay away from them.” I feel happy when I use. “You think you’re happy. But, you're not. I promise you that, Ryan. You love Stefani and your sister. Right?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“How old is your sister?” I’m having a hard time looking in his general direction.

“Thirteen. Just turned thirteen at least.” 

“Are you two close?” I nod. “Then try to at least get clean for her and your girlfriend. If not yourself. I'm getting clean for my parents. And myself, but mostly my parents.” Considering he's been here for so long, it's easier to listen to him.

“I guess.” I shrug, not talking anymore. He's easy to talk to.

We head back inside when we finish talking and Joel smiles our way. The group is finished by the time we get back, Joel packing his stuff up. “We have a process group next. It's a little heavier than this group.” Party.

We end up staying in the same room, a somewhat taller woman walks in. She has a friendly face. “Sarah!” Tyler smiles. Sarah. Remember that.

Sarah smiles, sitting down and crossing her legs with a notebook, looking around the room. “Are you new?” I nod, still close to Brendon. Dallon isn't in the room anymore. “It's nice to meet you. I do groups like process group and the few CBT groups you boys have.”

“What's a process group?” The cigarette really helped.

“We can talk about anything we want to. Problems in the house, or just personal problems.” I nod. “Everyone should get a chance to share.” Goody.

“Cool.” Brendon makes me nervous. He's right next to me, smiling slightly.

“Can I start?” Sarah nods. Brendon takes a deep breath, “Uh, Well, I told my mom about Nate. Which is big progress for me! My mom had a hard time dealing. But, she was super cool about it. She wants to press charges but I told her it was pointless because it happened so long ago.” He seems proud. Everyone else seems proud too.    
  


“That's very exciting, Brendon. You should be proud of yourself.” He smiles and then everyones looking at me. 

“My turn?” I get a nod, “I-- I miss my sister. A lot, I feel like I’m already suffocating. I don't know how I even got convinced to come here. I know there's an issue, but why rehab? It seems pointless. I'm not an addict.” I look over at Dallon who scoffs. 

“He's in denial. Are your parents rich, Ryan?” I shrug. No, not really. “Yeah, exactly. This place isn't cheap. So, if you think you don't have a problem, you're wrong.” Dallon looks satisfied with himself. Brendon rolls his eyes.

“Dallon, leave him alone.” Dallon made a face, crossing his arms. 

By the end of the group, I’m on the edge of crying. Brendon and I started walking upstairs together, one of the staff stopping me and pulling me to the side asking if I wanted to call my family, bringing me to another room and sitting me down right out of the doorway. 

I'm kind of waiting for this staff to tell me his name because he hasn't yet. “My name is Adrian, by the way. Sorry for not introducing myself.” He smiles. I nod. He hands me a phone, “What's your mom's number? Or your dads?” I panic. Brendon told me to just give them someone else's number.

I give Adrian her number, waiting. Please pick up. I get greeted by a very happy sounding voice. “Hello!” I snort.

“Hey.” I hear her gasp.

“Ryan?” I hum and she genuinely sounds happy.

“How are you doing?” She thinks for a moment.

“I mean, I miss you. Which, I know it hasn't been too long but I miss you anyway.” Adrians on his phone.

“I don't know how much time I have, but I hope you're doing okay.” I can hear her frown.

“I am. I hope everyone is being nice to you. Will I be able to visit?” I pull the phone away from my face.

“Adrian? Are family members able to visit? Or my girlfriend? Is she able to come?” 

“Depends if your parents want your girlfriend here.” He shrugs. I put the phone back to my ear.

“Depends. What have you been up to?” She sounds excited again.

“New music! I’m super excited to show you new songs. Is there a piano there?” 

“No, not that I saw. But, maybe you can send me some new lyrics? I brought my guitar so I can work on them?” 

“Of course. They're messy so change what you think would be best.” I can hear papers shifting. Adrian waves a hand at me.

“You have thirty seconds.” I furrow my eyebrows. Huh? “Sorry. Limited time.”

“I gotta go, I’m sorry. They Are pulling me off the phone. I love you.” She huffs.

“That was quick. Fine. I love you too. Call me soon?” I hum before Adrian decides to hang up on her. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Adrian shrugs.

“I forgot to mention, you only get five minutes. You can call her tomorrow.” I make a face. Five minutes? Thats bullshit. Brendon comes up behind me, tapping me on the shoulder. I look at him, amused by the grin on his face.

“How is she?” I get up, shrugging.

“Fine. I didn't have much time to talk to her. She's working on music, though.” He smiles. 

Brendon reminds me of Stefani in a very specific way. Not the aggression or anything. Maybe it's the smile. Or how he's made me feel safe. Or something. I stumble when he grabs my wrist and starts pulling me, talking about a painting he created a week ago. The only thing I can actually pay attention to is how nice his hand feels. I remember that woman saying that Stefani could be a distraction but I think the only distraction that I have is Brendon. 

  
  
  



End file.
